


Half-Dead

by daltonandes



Category: Bandom, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: AU, Blood, Frerard, Horror, M/M, The Black Parade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daltonandes/pseuds/daltonandes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a reckless accident, 19-year old Frank is half-dead, ending up in a waiting place between death and life where he meets a group of undead people who call themselves the Black Parade, including their cocky leader, Gerard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life's A Joke, We're Laughing

The air was salty and chilly today down at Blue Beach. 

The sun was hazy, fog filling the atmosphere like a wine glass. Teens with summer jobs were just taking off their aprons, families were packing up their beach chairs, and lifeguards were coming down from their chairs and wiping that white shit off their noses.

What a fucking day it had been. The clock had now hit seven on what was now known as the last day of summer. Tomorrow, school shopping would start and fuck knows what else.

Frank blew air out of his lips from his place on the rocks, looking out over the hazy horizon and taking in all of it. It was getting cold as fuck, and he should probably leave. But something just kept him there. Something he really didn’t know what.

Frank hadn’t gotten a summer job. He thought it was sort of useless, even though it paid okay and looked pretty good on college applications. Not that he was ever going to have a nice career. That pretty big scorpion tattoo on his neck would say otherwise. Oh well, who cared anyway? He never regretted getting any of his tattoos, not a single one. If he had, he wouldn’t have gotten sixteen more, especially the ones on his knuckles that were his pride and joy.

Frank was almost nineteen now, and getting a summer job like every other sixteen year old wasn’t in his list of things he wished to do. And plus, a job at Brine Beach was a fucking death wish. Sure, it was pretty, and it was nice, and it made you cool if you hanged there. 

But that wasn’t what he wanted. Summer jobs fit some teens, but not him. He had a job at a local café, and that was enough. He still loved coming to this beach, though. It was still beautiful on the outside, though on the inside it was a nuthouse. On the Jersey shore, it had plenty of sunshine and the water was the perfect temperature. The place he had been coming too since he was a kid. Like a childhood friend almost. 

A voice interrupted Frank’s thoughts. “Yo, dude!”

Frank scowled, but hid it before turning away from the calm sea and seeing his friends Jepha and Bert, still in their neon swimming trunks, and coming up to the rocks from the shore. 

Rolling his eyes, he waved.

“Brooding again?” Bert asked goofily with his long black hair in his eyes when they reached Frank.

“You would think,” Frank replied nasally. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Looking for you, duh. You don’t have to be pissy about it,” Jepha said matter-of-factly. 

“Obviously you’d be here, Frankie,” Bert added. “Where else?”

Frank looked back at the ocean before answering. “Yeah, you caught me, guys. What do you want?”

“We’re going out tonight….or did you forget?” said Bert. Seeing Frank’s reaction, he sneered. “Dude, you forgot. You never go out nowadays. We don’t even fucking know you anymore.”

“Fascinating.”

“Now you gotta be an asshole about it?”

“I like to do my own thing, okay?” Frank snapped. “This, this right now is my own thing, and you fucking ruined it, congrats.”

Bert sighed. “Frank, c’mon, dude, we’re sorry. We could catch a movie or something. We’ll have some fun before summer ends.”

“What’s so great about summer ending?” Frank said to nobody in particular, mostly to his feet, as Bert and Jeph exchanged tired looks.

“Dude, you’re gonna have to get a real job this year. Second year out of high school, c’mon,” Jeph pressed, talking with his hands and nearly hitting Frank in the face. “Look at me,  
man, look at me. You’re not looking! Look, college this year. I mean, normally I would party about this, have a lot of fucking fun, but I’ve seen stuff like this, man. If we don't  
go to a real college, we’ll end up eating half-eaten burgers out of fucking trash cans at any McDonald’s we can find.”

“Thanks for the visual.” Frank scrunched up his nose as Bert gagged animatedly. “You sound like my fucking mother.”

“Yeah and Frank has a job,” Bert put in. 

“Oh, I know. But anyway...we want you to come with us." said Jeph.

“I’ll pass, it’s okay.”

Jeph sighed heavily. “Frank, you can’t expect to live the life you want to live if you don’t try. If you spend all your time doing absolutely nothing, what’ll happen? Absolutely nothing! Chain reaction, dude.”

“When did you become such a philosopher?” Frank grumbled.

Jeph twitched. “Oh, okay. Okay. You want some advice from me? At the end of the month, I’m gonna either make you pay rent or kick you the fuck out of my apartment.”

Seeing Frank’s semi-horrified expression made Jeph laugh even harder. He was fucking high, Frank guessed, and what else was new?

“He’s fucking with you, man,” said Bert. “We know you pay your rent.” 

“Just because your parents gave you money for your own place,” Frank said with a shake of his head. “Doesn’t make you better than me, okay, fuckface?”

“Asshole,” Jeph said haughtily. “And I’d say so myself, actually. Now, let’s scram.”

Frank gave in, taking one last look at the ocean before turning with his friends and walking down the rock path to the shore.

 

Later that night, Frank was standing outside on the porch of Jeph’s small apartment, alone and having a smoke. He liked it that way. His friends were all right—okay, they were assholes, but Frank didn’t have anyone else except them. They let Frank stay with them, they fed him and even gave him smokes occasionally, which he needed. It was this or the fucking streets.

And now, he was still living there, and another summer had ended. That didn’t mean he was happy.

The only time Frank actually thought he knew happiness was when he looked over new tattoos, or scraped up enough money to actually get a new one. Every time he got a new one, it was like a new beginning. A new start, etched onto his skin like a promise. 

The only thing he could keep and hold were the little ink drawings on his pale skin. Those were permanent— they’d never go away, unlike everything else in his life. Unlike his father, and his mother, and his friends, and high school, and his piece of shit career.

Frank smirked around his cigarette in thinking this.

Bert was probably out getting beer, not that Frank cared because he didn’t drink too much. It wasn’t a personal reason, he just didn’t do it. Cancer sticks were enough in his life. His immune system was already horrible and he got sick all the time.

Frank sighed and took two more drags before dropping the it to the ground and stepping on it. One side was charred, the other untouched.

Everything in his life always had two sides to it, like the fucking cigarette. There was nothing plain about anything, not even his own eye color—were they brown or were they green? His irises were a mix of both, brown in the middle near the pupil, and green around the edges. Fuck. He couldn’t even have a normal eye color, even that was fucked up.

“Frank?” Jeph’s voice came from behind him. “Dude, what are you doing out here again?”

Frank turned and looked away from him. “Thinking.” 

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, recently, you’ve been acting different. You sleep half the time you’re here and you’re anti-social as fuck. We get drunk or high or whatever and you don’t even wanna join in like you used to. What’s up? You got some secret life that you don’t want us to know about?”

“Yeah, I’m a serial killer. Ooh, you got me, Jeph.” Frank said through his teeth.

“Fuck off,” Jeph hissed. “Frank, I really wanna know…I care, yanno.” 

“I’m fine, man,” Frank said half-honestly. “There’s nothing wrong with me, I don’t have a secret life.” 

“Fine,”Jeph gave in, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, Frank. But I would watch myself if I were you.” he said threateningly. “Just remember who you’re staying with and who’s giving you food so you don’t fucking starve. Be grateful, all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, my dear, dear friend?” Frank spat, so sarcastically he could feel Jeph seething at him behind his back. 

Jeph, sure enough, stalked back inside with a scowl and Frank felt emptier than ever, retrieving another pack of cigarettes and fishing his lighter out of his pocket once more. 

 

Oh, God.

Frank’s mind was so fuzzy and his vision was horrible—all he saw were moving colors and shapes. His lips wouldn’t move and his eyes were on fire.

“Hah, look, man! Look!” Frank heard Jeph’s voice echo, sounding and feeling like he was underwater. Frank could almost feel the bubbles.

He had no essence of what time it was or where the fuck he was. His vision was clearing slowly and he could just make out his friends Jeph and Bert standing over him, looking at him closely. He seemed to be outside Jeph’s apartment, looking up at them from sitting on the sidewalk.

“Fuck, it worked,” said Bert.

“Let’s keep him this way,” said Jeph, sounding garbled. “Maybe he’ll loosen up just a little more.”

“What’s happening?” Frank forced out of his lips, slow and slurry.

“We shot up together,” said Jeph groggily. “You did it with us. Don’t you feel good?”

Frank shook his head, but then stopped. He did feel good, whatever. All of his veins felt like live wires. His muscles felt like jelly and his mind was still fuzzy, but he found himself not caring. He felt like he could do any fucking thing. He felt like fucking flying.

Frank was walking on air. He started laughing a little. “Guys, what the hell did you give me…”

“He likes it,” Bert grinned, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. “We gave you some of our special stuff, Frankie, it’s really good stuff. And you feel awesome, don’t you?”

Frank nodded and he meant it, oh, and that wasn't good. He wasn’t himself. He wasn’t himself at all. And he didn’t even give a shit. Oh, this was bad. This was bad

 

The drugs started to wear off, eventually. 

It happened slowly. One minute Frank was high as a kite and the next he was being smacked back into reality by the fucking mighty hand of God. In hearing sirens in the distance, he realized what the fuck had happened.

Bert and Jeph, sweaty and dirty with ripped clothes, ran into him from behind, tripping over their own feet and laughing crazily.

“Need some more, buddy? C’mon, I’ll give you some more,” Bert mumbled with a smile.

Frank’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of them. “Guys….guys Don’t you see that we’ve—”

"Frank,” Jeph garbled, a grin identical to Bert’s on his face and his eyes really fucking bloodshot. “Take s’more. C’mon, you know you want to.”

Frank backed up and shook his head. “You fucking bastards!” Frank yelled in their faces, spitting slightly. “You drugged me up with fuck knows what!” 

“Aww, c’mon, Frank,” Jeph groaned. “Lighten up. You did it with us. We didn’t drug you, you drugged yourself.”

“Get away from me,” Frank said, backing away even more with his arms outstretched. “Get the fuck away from me.”

What he said seemed to wake Bert up slightly. “Frank, listen, buddy—”

“I hate you!” he screamed at him. “I hate both of you! And I fucking hate me too!”

Frank let out a frustrated yell before taking off. And he didn’t stop, even though he heard the half-hearted calls of his friends, telling him to slow the fuck down.

Frank’s breath came in sharp gasps and he finally slowed down every now and then and kicked things, like streetlights and blue mailboxes. Obscenities poured from his mouth and suddenly, he couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t stop running, his anger keeping him from doing anything besides stop. 

Suddenly, he felt himself falling and hadn’t noticed that he had tripped until he felt the rush of the air beneath his feet. He had tripped down the subway terminal, the terminal he knew was there, always been there, but he hadn’t cared.

Frank was falling with his hands out in front of him and it felt like he was falling for a hundred years, but at the same time it happened so fast. And suddenly, suddenly everything was black, and Frank was feeling a dull buzzing at the back of his skull that felt scarcely like pain.


	2. Awake

The first thing Frank noticed when he jerked awake again was that he was cold.

Wherever he was, it was colder than any place he’d ever been. It made his insides feel frozen as icicles hanging from roof ledges. When his eyes finally opened, aching, he saw that it was dark as fuck as well.

Yeah, fuck. Oh, this was a trip. Where the fuck was he?

As Frank’s eyes adjusted, he looked down at his lap and saw that he was in a small hospital bed of some sort, with white sheets intertwining in his legs. The only speck of light came from a small oil lamp hanging above the bed, casting an eerie yellow light and showing Frank more of the room. It was a large one, with other hospital beds lined up against the windows.

They were completely empty.

He looked down at himself, trying to slow his breathing. He was in a white hospital gown that was a size too big for him. White bandages covered his wrists and forearms, all the way up to his elbows, held in place with hastily- stamped staples. Fuck.

Frank felt his face, his hair, his neck, his chest. He was all there. He was very much alive…and that’s what scared him. He was dead, wasn’t he? He had to be. A hospital like this couldn’t possibly exist in the real world. 

Frank bit down hard on his lip and cried out in pain. Okay, that was definitely fucking real.

He felt fear like he never had before. It was a gripping, ice cold fear. Oh, God. It was like a hand gripping his throat and another gripping his heart, whispering into his ear that it was all over, squeezing, shaking him by the throat, threatening to kill him.

Oh, wait. He couldn’t be killed if he was already dead.

Oh, but hear, hear. There had to be a wound from him busting his fucking head open, maybe a crack in his skull or a gash, and blood. There must’ve been so much blood.

But Frank didn’t feel anything on his head. Not even a bump or scrape and certainly no blood. It was like the accident never happened. Like he’d never fallen down a subway terminal.

But it had happened. And fuck, he certainly was remembering all of it, the pain, the blood, and the darkness and laughter, the screaming. 

Not really sure of what he was doing, Frank stumbled out of the hospital bed. He wasn’t ready to walk, he figured too late as he collapsed on the floor on his knees. But he saw it—what he needed— a small, foggy reflection of the lamp above his bed across the room on the wall.

It was a mirror.

Frank crawled like a helpless infant over to the wall, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet again and grabbed the headboard of another hospital bed for support. 

And he gasped.

In the faint light, Frank saw that he sure did look different dead than alive. His face was the same but at the same time, it wasn’t. His eyes had dark circles around them like a raccoon’s, making them look sunken into his head, skeleton-like. His skin was pasty and gaunt and slightly sunken into his cheeks, he noticed, as he slowly brought one of his hands to his face and touched it. Bloodless.

/Blood! Gallons of the stuff! Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough!/

“Help!” Frank suddenly shouted hoarsely, finding his voice. He wasn’t just afraid, no, he wasn’t just scared—he was downright fucking terrified.

I can’t breathe with the radio on.

Frank turned away from the mirror and his hand slipped from the headboard, causing him to fall on his knees with a grunt. “Somebody please help me! Please!”

After a few seconds of dead silence, Frank accepted the fact he was alone and sat on the floor, covered his knees with his arms, shivering violently and whimpering. Fuck, he hated it. If this was what being dead was like, he wanted to be at least warm and not so lonely.

As he continued to self-pity, a figure came to the doorway of the room and Frank’s head turned slowly, not wanting to believe it was actually another human. 

So much blood, I feel nothing.

“You all right, Frank?” the figure spoke in a tired voice. “You breathing okay? I heard you panting. Have a nightmare?”

Frank was indeed still panting, on his knees with his arms still wrapped around himself. “How do you know my name?” he said weakly.

The figure didn’t answer. It came closer, striking a match suddenly and lighting more lamps around the room. As if things weren’t creepy enough.

Gradually, the room became lighter, and Frank could make out the figure ever so slightly. He was a particularly tall man with a wild man of brown hair and large hands.

“We had a call,” the guy said in a chilly voice, looking at Frank as he blew the match out, before walking over to him and holding out his hand. Frank hesitantly took it as he led him back to bed.

“A call from where?” Frank’s teeth chattered.

“Classified,” the guy said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and looking across at Frank through soft brown eyes. “But we got a call. Said that we’d be getting some guy named Frank down here really soon, and we did. I visited you a couple times when you were passed out. I’m the one who bandaged up your wrists, by the way, but don't worry about them. They’ll heal in no time.” 

Frank looked down at his wrists again. “Well, uh. What’s wrong with my wrists?”

“It’s what happens when you end up here,” the guy shrugged, showing Frank his own wrists. “See. You get marked so they know who you are and sooner or later they heal into scars. It’s different on each person.”

Frank’s head was aching. “Why?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know everything, Frank.”

He’s just like you, Frankie boy, don’t you get it? Why not trust him? He’s gonna pull up a chair and give you the ol’ diagnosis. Which is? Oh, silly, you know the answer. You’re fucking dead!

Frank felt a weird lump in his throat, threatening to come up out of his throat as green bile and vomit. He could see it now, like poor possessed Regan in the fucking Exorcist. 

“What’s your name?” he croaked, his head spinning. Oh, well. At least his head didn’t spin like poor possessed Regan.

“I'm Ray,” the guy smiled a little. “I’m just like you, man. I had an accident too. Struck by goddamn lightning. They said I’d never walk again but that was before my brain died.”

Frank blinked. “N-no shit…really? “

“Really,” said Ray. “And, like you, Frank, I was scared when I came here. We all were. You are not in this alone."

Frank sniffed and caught a musty smell. “What is this place? Really, though. This must be purgatory or something…isn’t it? Is that why you’re wearing white?”

Ray pursed his lips. “Well, it’s almost like purgatory. You’re half-dead, Frank. You got injured seriously on Earth but you didn’t die all the way. Like me.”

“So…shouldn’t I be in like a coma or something?”

“You are,” said Ray, almost sadly. “In the hospital on Earth you are.”

Frank almost felt tears prick his eyes. “Fuck. How long?”

Ray shrugged. “Could be months, weeks. There’s no essence of time here.”

Oh, fucking marvelous. 

/Jeph and Bert probably came to see ya in the hospital, ol’ boy. They probably hate themselves. And you said you hated them, that was the last thing you said to them, remember that? They have to carry that burden./

“So why am I here if I should be on Earth in the hospital?”

“Well, your heart is still beating, but you’re braindead. When you’re heart stops beating…you’ll die and pass onto the next life, whether it be heaven or hell.”

Frank really hated the sound of that. “And if I live?”

“Back on Earth you go,” said Ray bitter-sweetly. “And you can forget about all this world. Think of it as a distant memory."

“Fuck me,” is all Frank could say. 

Ray stared down at the bed. “It’s…hard to get used to, I suppose. You’re not the only one.”

“Okay, cool. So I’m a fucking braindead zombie in purgatory.”

“Something of the sort,” Ray smirked coyly at him, his eyes kind. "Yeah. Something like that."

“Somebody call Stephen King.”

This time Ray laughed. “And yet you still have your sense of humor. I think you’ll be alright here, Frank.”

Frank shrugged and looked around. “I still have a fuckton of questions, but even so.”

"I really shouldn’t really be telling you anything at all, sorry,” said Ray, apologetic. “The head doctor, Dr. Bryar, told me to hold off on talking until tomorrow when you’re slightly better but that was before you woke up and I…thought you’d be asleep for a little longer.”

Frank held his head. “Can you…just give me some meds to make the ringing in my ears go away?”

Ray nodded and got up, returning with a packet of small purple pills. He gave Frank a few and Frank swallowed them down like sugar.

Before he knew it, he was in a deep sleep. 

 

When Frank woke up, he was unpleasantly reminded like a water balloon to the face, that he was still in the nightmare hospital. Except it was lighter now and he could see dark clouds outside hanging in the sky without a hint of sunshine in them.

Frank sat up slowly and looked around. God, his fucking head throbbed.

In habit, his fingers fumbled to his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes, but they only brushed the back of his hospital gown.

Fuck, of course they took away his cigarettes. What else could go wrong?

Frank pulled the blankets up over his head and rubbed them over his hair, trying greedily to get some heat. The bandages, he noticed, were gone from his wrists, and Frank expected to see scratches on them, but instead he saw marks like scars—pink and a little puffy around the edges. Go figure. It was like Ray had said.

As if he was on cue, Ray came into the room, carrying a clipboard under his arm and a tray of medicine bottles with both hands. He had the end of a thermometer in his mouth. 

“Didn’t want to disturb you,” said Ray rather kindly. His pasty skin was even more vivid in the light. “Let you sleep. How do you feel, Frank?”

“I don’t even know,” Frank croaked out. “I’m still confused. I want to go home, I really, really don’t like it here.”

He thought of home, and how horrible Jeph’s place was and how horrible his friends were and had been, but anywhere was better than here. That old saying that said you never knew what you had until it was gone, was actually really fucking true.

Ray set the tray on the nightstand and gave a sigh. "Oh, dear. That’s what everyone says, Frank. Nobody likes hospitals, it’s like we’re born with a certain scorn for them and it’s in our blood. I’ve been here for a long time, and things still make me really squeamish.”

Instead of responding, Frank started shivering violently and Ray frowned a little.

“Another blanket, eh…”

Frank nodded almost too vigorously and Ray walked over to an empty bed to get a blanket, humming slightly, but suddenly froze in his tracks, his head jerking toward the window. 

“What is it?” Frank whispered to him. “Why’d you stop? I need that fucking blanket.”

“You hear that?” he said rather excitedly, staring at the window in what looked like awe. 

“I don’t hear anything. What the fuck are you talking—”

“Shh!” Ray hissed and looked back at Frank, his eyes lit up. “Wow. It’s actually happening. They’re back!”

“Who’s back? I don't—” Frank asked, but froze when he heard the music Ray obviously was talking about. It was distant, but Frank knew from his four annoyance-filled and greasy years at high school that that was the sound of drums and cymbals- it was fucking marching band. 

“The Black Parade is back, of course! Ray exclaimed, snapping Frank out of it when he pulled his blanket back and the cold rushed to his skin.

“Hey, I needed that—”

“They’ve returned! Oh, c’mon, we gotta get you out of that white gown and into something more presentable! We have to get outside when they come by.”

“Why?” Frank asked as Ray pulled him to his feet. Frank wobbled a little, but regained his balance slowly as Ray helped him across the room. 

“It’s a custom here,” said Ray, still animatedly, as they walked through the doorway to a thin, shallow hallway. 

“Every time the parade comes back, it’s a wonderful thing!”

“Parade?” Frank said rather stupidly as they came to another room different than the one before. 

Ray pushed him into the room and Frank saw what looked like a little living quarters, complete with a small and unmade bed and a bureau with clothes spilling out of it.

“Yes, Frank. Well, take off your gown, c’mon, we don’t have all day.”

Frank obeyed and grumbled. Barely a day here and this guy was rushing him somewhere else. God, Frank couldn’t catch a fucking break.

“I know it’s cold, Frank. Here, put this on.” Ray said, dumping a pile of black and white clothes into his arms. “They should fit you. You’ll be warmer.”

Frank pulled the clothes on, not giving a shit that he was taking his sweet ass time.

It was true, though. He was much warmer in these clothes, black pants and black-and-white striped sweater.

“Ready?” Ray pleaded impatiently. “I hear the music and it’s getting louder, they’re closer.”

Frank nodded just once and before he knew it Ray was dragging him out of the door by the hand.

They went all the way down the hallway to the door at the end of it and Ray opened it with a “Voila”.

That was when Frank got his first glimpse of the outside world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like this, please share!


	3. This Tragic Affair

Frank was staring at a long dirt road, snaking through the landscape like a serpent. Small hut-like houses dotted the side of it, with lanterns hanging at almost every post, a total absence of streetlights.

The music in the distance was getting louder by the second, coming from where the road ended.

Frank looked at the sky where a distant booming was coming from. It was an orangey-brown, like the land beneath it was engulfed in flames. There were tall, brown buildings in the distance, almost seeming to touch the sky, and airships and old-looking airplanes.

Shit.

“What is this place?” Frank murmured, not taking his eyes off the sky. “Looks like something out of fucking Call of Duty.”

“It’s home,” was all Ray said, looking out into the distance. 

“Home. Huh, some home.”

“Well,” said Ray a little defensively. “For now, at least.”

Frank looked at him, still amazed. “It’s really different, Ray. And pretty fucking weird from what I see.”

Ray just laughed.

“What’s over there? Those really tall buildings?”

“That’s headquarters. We usually stay away from there. It’s where the Warden lives.” Ray visually swallowed. 

“Oh, so there’s like a boss here?”

“Yes. It’s weird, it really is. Oh, hi, Jimmy!” Ray suddenly exclaimed, letting go of Frank’s hand and beckoning quickly toward someone. “Come meet Frank, he’s new!”

Frank wasn’t really in the mood to meet anyone new, but Ray was basically shoving their hands together in a handshake. 

“Jimmy, this is Frank. Frank, Jimmy.”

Jimmy was a lot shorter than Ray but still taller than Frank, maybe a little under six feet, dressed in identical black and white. He looked older than them both, though his short hair was spiky and dyed a wild bubblegum pink. The lines on his face suggested he was probably older than thirty. And he looked absolutely thrilled to be here. 

Jimmy didn’t speak at first, so Ray had to pinch him a couple times and whisper, “Say hi. Where’s your manners?”

“Hello,” Jimmy sighed, rolling his eyes and sounding bored. “I’m James Euringer, future senator and invisible-toaster inventor. How may I help you today?”

Frank smirked. 

“I’ll be right back, guys.” Ray told the two of them. “I’m going to go get Quinn.”

Oh, no.

“Quinn?” Frank’s attention jumped from wondering how Jimmy’s hair stayed so perfectly gelled to Ray’s words, his head jerking the other direction. “Jesus Christ.”

“Ya know him?” Jimmy said, crossing his arms.

“I-I don’t know. Surely it couldn’t be Quinn Allman,” said Frank. 

Jimmy’s expression turned from sour to very amused. “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

“Really, man. Quoting Heathers?”

This time Jimmy grinned at him. “I like you, kid. You know ya cult films.”

Frank turned back to where Ray had run off to. “It can’t be the Quinn I know.”

“Shit, man. What’d he die of?”

“He overdosed,” the words stuck in Frank’s throat like glue and corn starch. “Middle of junior year.”

“Goddamn,” Jimmy said almost sympathetically, looking at the ground. “Wow, that really sucks.”

“Jeph, my other friend, he…didn’t go to school for the rest of the year basically.”

Jimmy blew air out of his lips. “I barely remember high school. Sorry you had to go through that, man.”

Frank rubbed his nose. “Well. How old are you?”

“A fuckload older than you, thank you.”

Frank swallowed. “Man. Would Quinn recognize me?”

“Depends, dude. Do you think he will?”

“No,” Frank answered right away, just as Jimmy was taking a cigarette out of his pocket and Frank nearly had an aneurism. 

“What the fuck?! They have those here? Nobody told me!”

“Well, you’re new here,” Jimmy said huskily, lighting it. “They’re cancer free, too.”

“Someone was fucking duping me.”

“You mean Ray?” Jimmy smirked and offered him one. “Oh, calm down, hush. The Warden gives them out along with food.”

“Warden must be nice,” Frank nearly moaned as Jimmy lit one for him and forked it over. He swore he saw angels when he finally took a long drag. 

“He’s alright,” Jimmy was shrugging.

Frank was having the time of his life smoking a fucking cigarette. His life…or after-life, had gotten so bleak. 

“Wait a minute. Did you say food?”

“Mmm,” Jimmy nodded. “It doesn’t have nutritional value. People eat and drink and smoke out of habit or sport, I guess. Kinda like vampires only need blood but sometimes they enjoy a nice Twinkie.” 

“Oh,” Frank exhaled smoke through his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

“Not even close.”

Frank knew the subject needed to be changed. “So, is this...gathering like a weekly thing?”

“A weekly thing?” Jimmy’s eyebrows went halfway up his forehead. “No, man. The Black Parade coming back is a yearly thing, dude. That’s why we’re all gathered here. The parade stays in town for another year, and then they leave again. It’s pretty fucking important.”

“Ah. Well, what makes them so special?” 

“They’re messengers. They play music and sing and bring comfort, I guess you could say, to lost people and they bring them back here and give them a home. They’re sort of like singing missionaries.”

“Oh, that’s…cool I guess. What do they look like?”

Jimmy turned his body to Frank and scrutinized him again, his own cigarette between two bony fingers. “You’re just full to the brim with fucking questions, aren’t you?”

Frank shrugged. “I’m not a local.”

Jimmy shook his head slowly and his face broke into a small smile, as if rookie Frank really was a funny, sarcastic little fuck. 

“I guess you’ll find out when they come by, won’t cha? They’re really nice people. Especially their leader, he’s the one with white-ass hair. I personally think he’s hot as hell.”

“Oh, lovely,” said Frank, not sure if he wanted to believe it. “I’m sure he’s fucking charming.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m picturing like some old guy, but…”

Jimmy smirked at him. “You’ll find out, won’t you?” he said again. 

Frank nodded and looked around. “Hey, where’s Ray?”

“Eh, leave him, don’t worry ‘bout him,” said Jimmy, shrugging it off. “He won’t get lost. He’s been here as long as I have.”

Frank swore. “How long have you been here then?”

Jimmy chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know, man. Probably around five years."

“Five years in this place?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, hiding the sadness in his voice but not doing a very good job. “Yeah, it’s been awhile since I saw my family.”

“Man. I’m sorry. You don' have to pretend you're not sad, yanno."

Jimmy shrugged and took one last drag, stomping it out with his boot. “There’s no essence of time around here, Frank. That’s a little comforting. For all I know, I could’ve been here for an hour. Or it could be fifty years, who knows?” 

“Ray told me about that. Oh, it’s fucking great.”

“Hey!” Jimmy suddenly exclaimed, pointing. “Look, here they come, I can see them. Look, fuckface! You’re gonna miss it!”

The parade had finally shown their faces. They were a large group of people, all holding instruments, like cymbals, drums, flutes, and triangles. They were all dressed in black tight pants and white -black marching band jackets. As they came closer and Frank saw that they were mostly skinny and skeleton-like, with an exception for the man in the front, who was leading them with a baton in his fingers, and a head of white-blonde hair.

They came to an abrupt stop and Frank got a better look at the leader that Jimmy had been talking about. He wasn’t tall or short, but somewhere in the middle. His eyes had dark circles around them too, but his skin was less gaunt, though his lips were thin and his teeth were kinda small. 

His short hair, flaring his head like peacock feathers, was shocking, contrasting his black jacket. Frank saw sinfully tight black jeans fitting this man’s legs, like the others, but for some reason he made them look better than anybody else did.

The last thing Frank noticed was the man’s eyes, which were a deep hazel, scanning the crowd as he smiled at all of them.

The parade passed where Frank and Jimmy were, and that was when their eyes met. 

For a split second Frank felt a rush of some weird feeling that he couldn’t place, and in moments it was gone. His hand moved to his stomach where the feeling had showed up, and curiously rubbed his skin under the sweater.

“Oh, fuck,” said Frank, and instantly he knew he was in trouble.

The band made one more call from a trumpet, and then stopped playing with a signal from the leader, who pointed his skinny index finger and thumb into the air. Everything was silent until the crowd of townspeople erupted into cheers, waving their hands in the air. Jimmy had joined them half-heartedly, his hair still perfectly gelled, which really was impressive.

Somewhere down the side of the street, Frank saw Ray cheering with the rest, too. He didn’t know whether to join them or not.

The leader smiled hugely and took a few bows. “Thank you, thank you, everyone. We’ve missed you all so much. Have you missed us as well?” he said. His voice was rather high and nasally, and Frank could swear he could detect traces of a Jersey accent in it. He could be wrong, but he was from there. Not that hard to pinpoint.

“Well, well!” the leader continued as the cheering died down again. "It gives me great pleasure to say that our mission this year was a success. Thank you all for your support, we have helped several lost souls, and you can meet them after we disband. They’re all new here, so make them feel welcome!"

And with that, the band started up again and resumed marching, some of them moving to different parts of the town and disbanding as said. There was a commotion of talking between the members and the townspeople. 

“So that’s the parade,” Jimmy said next to Frank with a small smirk, as a young boy squeezed in between them to meet a woman parade member, probably his mother. “They’re nice, right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Frank said, his eyes zoning to see where the leader had gone. “I’m guessing that somebody found me here. I was a lost soul, like uh…the leader said? Ray said he found me.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy shrugged. “But that’s Ray trying to scare you. People usually just show up here after they half-die."

Frank nodded and sighed. He felt so tired…and yeah, he would find Ray later. And maybe Quinn, too. Right now he needed to sit the fuck down.

“You okay?” Jimmy asked him.

Frank nodded, rubbing his head, which throbbed. “I need to catch a break.”

“Sure. Catch ya later, man,” said Jimmy, waving and taking off to meet someone in the growing crowd.

Frank moved away and took a seat on one of the hospital steps, staring down at his knees. Fuck, it was cold. 

He was starting to think about how cold it was back home, and the snow in Jersey, and that reminded him of his friends, his bullshit friends and their bullshit rules and their bullshit home life. His thoughts took off and he remembered all the fights they had. That just reminded him of Quinn, who might be in the same place he was coincidentally, and he wondered if Quinn would recognize him if he went up to him. The thought made his heart ache incredibly. 

“Excuse me? Hello, I’m talking to you…” a voice suddenly jerked him out of his thoughts.

Frank’s head jerked up, only to find that it was him—the leader of the parade, standing there with his arms crossed over his jacket and his eyes squinted slightly, and a smirk on his face. 

“Oh!” Frank exclaimed, jumping out of his daze. “God, I’m sorry…I was just—”

“You’re Frank, right? Is it Frank?” the man asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Frank nodded slowly and was still feeling awkward, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah. As if it wasn’t obvious, I’m new."

"Nice to meet you, Frank. My name is Gerard," the man said clearly with a genuine smile, offering his hand. Frank shook it hesitantly and when he did he knew he probably squeezed his hand too hard. “French. But Italian to my core.”

“I can tell by your eyes,” Frank tried to make a joke and laughed weakly at his failure. 

But Gerard laughed like it was actually the funniest fucking thing. “You must be the same. Jersey, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank exhaled. “I kinda figured you were from there, too. Yanno, your accent.”

Gerard chuckled. “Well, Frank from Jersey, I’d like to offer my welcome,” he said sincerely. “I’m not really the boss of this town, but I am a leader in more ways than one. And a really fucking good one, too.”

Frank nodded, feeling really lightheaded.

“How do you like it here?”

“It’s really…strange, but what do I know I guess?” Frank tried to laugh. Oh, God. Why was he acting so fucking awkward? People never made him feel like this, he was usually the life of the party and people were usually nervous talking to HIM, not vice versa.

“Still have some questions?” 

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Is this when you answer them?”

“Sure,” Gerard said with a smirk. “It’d be my pleasure. But not now, we have to schedule a time. Busy times, these are, my apologies.” 

“Okay,” Frank said and it was only then that he realized he was fucking blushing for the first time since maybe sophomore year. That made no sense anyway, he was half-dead, how could he even blush? 

And Frank knew Gerard noticed, but he didn’t mention it.

“Come see me later? I’ll be around. I’ll come find you,” Gerard smiled and turned, but not before stopping to blow him a fucking kiss. 

Frank just stood there in semi-shock and watched Gerard go, feeling like at any minute he’d drop and pass the fuck out.

He sat back on the hospital entrance steps and just thought, looking after Gerard in awe. He couldn’t stop. This wasn’t right.

To Frank, Gerard wasn’t hot and he wasn’t weird or strange. He was different, but that wasn’t exactly the right word…

There was only one word that came to Frank’s mind that fit when he saw Gerard—

Perfect.


	4. Kill All Your Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reference the horror movie Saw in this chapter...but I don't own it or anything to do with it, it belongs to James Wan and Leigh Whannell

People had cleared away from the road and sidewalks by the time Frank met up with Jimmy again. They were all inside, from what Frank could see and from what Jimmy told him, they were getting ready for their nightly activities.

“So, what’d he say to you?” Jimmy mumbled, lighting another cigarette. They were still outside and it was getting colder, a fuckload colder.

“Gerard? Uh, not much,” Frank lied. “He wants to meet with me and explain some shit.”

Jimmy put a second cigarette behind his ear for later. “Oh, snazzy. He’s really nice, isn’t he? 

“He’s peachy,” said Frank. “Like, I mean it, he’s fucking nice. You made me dream up this misconception of him just for fun.”

“It’s what I do,” Jimmy said honestly with a smirk. “I bother the newbies.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Jimmy fixed a pink spike on his head. “Anyway,” he exhaled out smoke. “Go see him, like right now. He usually gets busy when the activities start so now is probably the best  
time.”

“Are you fucking with me again?”

Jimmy shook his head and sneered. “No, Frank. You’ll know when I’m fucking with you again.”

 

Gerard’s hut of a house looked just like all the others and Frank was sure if Jimmy hadn’t helped him find it, he would’ve been looking forever. Not that it mattered. He basically had forever in his grasp in this world.

He stood on the doorstep for what seemed like years until he finally gathered the courage to knock on the fucking door.

Gerard answered almost immediately. He wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore, just a black long-sleeve shirt that defined his long arms and pajama pants, no doubt. His hair was  
slightly disheveled. 

“Um…were you sleeping or something?” Frank asked with a small laugh.

“No,” Gerard smirked. “This is just how I relax, especially after a long day like this.”

“You must be tired," said Frank. "You have your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

“I really do,” Gerard yawned and Frank caught a glimpse of his small, skeleton-like teeth again. “Won’t you come in? It’s really cold tonight. Don’t want you catching a cold.” 

Gerard let Frank in and shut the door. His house on the inside was actually a lot better than the outside; it was a small room with the walls painted a dark grey, with a messy and unmade bed, a small table inside a kitchen and things scattered about the place. Frank also saw canvases strewn against the walls and sketchbook after sketchbook piled high in stacks on the floor next to his bed.

“Damn. Can I really catch a cold?”

“No, I was just messing with you.”

Frank laughed darkly and sat at the table in the kitchen. “Well, you’re not the first to do that.”

Gerard was brewing coffee in a French press, one that Frank had only seen on TV. 

“Let me guess. Jimmy?”

“Fuckin’ duh.”

Gerard smirked. “He’s a sad guy. Came here depressed and will leave the same way. He was taken away from his family.”

Frank blinked. “How’d he die?”

“He killed himself. I assure you that he regrets it with every breath he takes down here. He misses them like fucking crazy.”

That was the first time Frank heard Gerard swear and though it was refreshing, thinking about how sad Jimmy must be made him nauseous.

“My friend Quinn committed, too. Pills. He wasn’t even 17.” 

Gerard looked at him sadly. “It’s a scary word, death. And even scarier to experience it yourself. When a loved one is dying, it’s sad and scary. But when you’re dying you just don’t accept it until you’re dead.”

Frank swallowed. “How’d you die?”

Gerard pushed air out of his lips and stirred something into a mug. “Uh, cancer. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black with one sugar. Are you hesitant or just lying to me?”

Gerard hid a smile from Frank. “Persistent, aren’t you?”

“I just wanna talk,” Frank bit his lip. “You said you’d talk to me, remember?"

Gerard filled another mug with coffee and sighed, stirred it. “You’re right, I did. And I’m a man of my word.” He came over to where Frank was sitting and handed him the mug. “Here. Black, one sugar.”

“Thank you.” Frank took a small sip and waited for Gerard to start talking.

“I had terminal cancer back on earth and I died, ending up here because my brain isn’t dead all the way. I assume Ray told you some of this.”

Frank nodded.

“This isn’t really purgatory. It’s more of a…waiting place, either until the other half of your brain dies and you go to heaven or hell, or is made alive again, therefore you’re back on earth and alive and healthy.”

“I know all that. I just wanna know more about you,” Frank hesitated a little at the last statement.

“You’re really curious. That’s something I really don’t hear every day.”

“Well, you must not get new people here every day.”

Gerard looked down into his mug. “There’s not much to say. I was diagnosed when I was 18, went through chemo, thought it was working and I had a chance. We all thought I had  
a chance.”

“We?”

Gerard swallowed. “My family. My brother, Mikey and my mom.”

“And you….didn’t make it.”

“Technically, no. I don’t even think they had a funeral for me. One day I was just lying in that hospital bed with the scratchy sheets,” Gerard was staring off, his fist clenched slightly. “And Mikey…looked right at me and said ‘If you die I’ll run away from home, Gee’. And I said, ‘No, Mikes. That’s not a good thing to do’. And then I died right there, not even using my last breath to say goodbye.”

Frank looked down. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t even know how Mikey is. Or how my mom is. I still am alive a little bit, and what I wouldn’t give to see them again.”

Frank watched Gerard’s hands shake a little as he drank his coffee. “I fucking hate it here. I might seem happy and shit but now you know how I really feel. This place is a wasteland.”

Frank bit his lip. “I believe you. But things get better, you know?”

Gerard looked sideways at him. “You were depressed, Frank. How do you manage to think like that, so positively?”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t—”

“Tell me your story, then. I want to know,” said Gerard, sitting back. “I told you mine, shouldn’t you open up too?” 

And Gerard called him persistent, Frank thought. Jesus Christ.

“It’s a sob story, really,” Frank said matter-of-factly. “I hated my life and my friends and my job and I just wanted everything to be different. And now it is.”

“How so?”

“Well, my friends were assholes. They got me to do drugs with them, I don’t even know to this day what they had me do. But I got angry, like really angry and I ran away from them, not even sure where I was going and then splat. I fell down a subway terminal and woke up in hospital of the damned.”

Gerard smirked a little and Frank watched his lips curl up. “Hospital of the damned, huh?”

Frank nodded. “And yanno what? Even though I was scared shitless and confused, in the back of my mind I thought, ‘Wow. I’ve escaped my shit life, even though it brought me to this place’. It’s like in Saw, when that guy Adam says he went to sleep in his shithole apartment and woke up in an actual shithole.”

Gerard chuckled at him. “I have never seen Saw. I think I died too soon. But yanno something, Frank, we all think like that sometimes.”

Frank sighed. “I was a depressed fuck. But I knew I needed help and the way out wasn’t suicide. It never is. Things get better.”

Gerard nodded. “Do you possibly think there’s a reason you’re here? Is it that hard to believe you may have a purpose here?”

Frank looked at him, at his bright eyes and pale as fuck skin and small, thin lips. “Would it be farfetched to say yes?”

“Not at all.”

Frank smiled this time. “Thanks.”

“Do you want some more advice, though, Frank?” Gerard asked and Frank nodded. 

“I would try not to fall in love with anybody here, or make too many really good friends. Because chances are, you might not see them ever again. Can you promise me that?”

Frank bit his lip again and nodded. “I think I can promise that.”

“Good. It’s my job to keep you safe and awake and happy here, I guess. Which reminds me, I have another appointment in like ten minutes.”

“Oh, so you’re kicking me out so soon?” Frank smirked at him.

Gerard smirked back, his thin lips stretching. “Come see me tomorrow, maybe? Or I’ll just see you around.”

“Yeah,” Frank said hesitantly, not sure if it would be, like, a date or not. “I’d like that.”

“Cool. Now, get out.” Gerard leered in a kind way as Frank got up and pushed his empty coffee mug toward him.

“I’m going, asshole.”

As he walked out, Gerard gave him a sincere smile and a wave, which he returned. 

Oh, God, he was so fucked


End file.
